So It Goes
by med-anomaly
Summary: Wilson loses a patient and takes it hard. House pulls him back from the edge, reminding him of his duty as a physician. HouseWilson established relationship.


A/N: The little boy in this is based on the very first patient whose care I was a part of.

"Thank you Dr. Wilson," the young mother said before dissolving into tears, collapsing into her husband's arms. They held each other tightly and sobbed while their little girl stared unabashedly at her brother's lifeless form. She turned to Wilson, and he instinctively crouched down to be at eye level for her. "Why did he have to die?" she asked innocently. "I don't know," Wilson said, drawing her into a hug. The girl was tiny, but Wilson felt like he couldn't breathe in her grasp. His chest was tight, as if she were restricting his breath. He pulled away. "I'm so sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there's anything I can do for you," he said as he departed.

Wilson practically power walked to his office, closing the door as soon he arrived. He stripped off his white coat, shutting his eyes against the hot tears building within them. He crumpled the coat and threw it down angrily. Now, was not the time to feel like a doctor. He quickly stepped out on to the balcony, and settled hard against the ledge. He gripped the rough concrete surface, relishing the scratches it left on his palms. The sun shone brightly, mocking the heaviness he felt deep within. Too many muddled thoughts and questions pummeled his sleep-deprived mind. Grief floated across the top of these murky waters, covering and rendering insignificant what lay beneath.

House observed Wilson carefully. He was staring out into the distance, leaning over the edge of the balcony, seemingly unaware of the chill the brisk wind brought with it. House shut his eyes pausing for a moment to ready himself before joining Wilson on the balcony.

"There are degrees of caring," House said, leaning his elbows on the edge of the balcony, mimicking Wilson's posture. He hated having to be the voice of reason at times like this, but it was something that those with more experience did for those with less.

"No, either you care or you don't. You let it affect you by degrees," Wilson said meeting House's eyes only briefly with his own grief-filled ones before looking back across the horizon.

"Either way, your degree is usually somewhere between Cameron's and mine," House said, slanting his head and scrunching up his face to express that Wilson had a point without having to say it aloud.

"You were once where I am now," Wilson said, knowing that in medicine, the people who seemed to care the least, had usually once cared most deeply. Pain wore on them, forcing the pendulum to swing in the direction of detachment.

"Yes, I have stood exactly there before," House said glibly, not wanting to remember what it used to be like. He had found focusing fiercely on doing everything he possibly could for the patients he could help, eased the sting of those he could do nothing for.  
"Don't. Don't trivialize this. What we do matters. Without us, this would happen a hell of a lot more."

"Yeah, but we're not enough to keep it from happening entirely. And so, by degrees, we lessen what it does to us. If we don't, nobody wins. But you already know this. If you didn't, you wouldn't counsel your underlings, or mine for that matter, the way you do."

"Yeah, well, if knowing and doing were one and the same, the world would be a very different place," Wilson said staring off into space again.

"That it would," House said, offering silent companionship till Wilson was ready to continue.

"Diego," Wilson said quietly, his voice catching on the first syllable. "He was going to be nine at the end of the month. I've-," Wilson paused before continuing, "I'd treated him since he was four. Why-"

"Ours is not to ask why," House said, knowing good would not come of letting Wilson continue down that path.

"Vonnegut died recently. He was 84. This kid was 8, and was sick for years before his heart gave out because of the chemo that we gave him to save him. And his mother, his mother thanked me before she even let herself start crying. And what did I do? I high-tailed it out of there so that I could lose it in my office in peace."

"You losing it isn't going to make anyone feel better, not even you. I know it's tempting to just stand out here all day and think or freeze yourself into numbness, but what do you think the likelihood is that you and I are going to figure out the answer to all the why's you've got churning through your mind right now, standing out here? Or ever? And even if we did, what would it change? Everybody dies. Some people get to live a long life first and some don't. Them's the breaks."

House studied Wilson's response, and noted that he had effectively been pulled back from the ledge.

Wilson looked back out towards the sun, but nodded slightly. He knew House was right, hell, he'd given similar speeches. Some things bore repeating.

"Come on. It's cold out here, go back in your office, I'll be by in a few. Go," he urged, when Wilson finally held his gaze.

"Yeah," Wilson said wearily. He hadn't been this hard hit by a patient's death in years. Kids were always tougher though. Maybe it was because of all the potential lost on top of the loss of a person. He cast the sun one last look before going back inside. Once in his office, he made no attempts to pick up his white coat. He just sat on his couch and held his face in his hands. He heard House enter, but didn't look up. He didn't move when House sat next to him either.

House drew his partner into a silent embrace, holding him close against his chest. Wilson eased into it. "This is what I needed. Why couldn't we just cut straight to this?" He said, feeling much better.

"You know why. Ten minutes from now, you have to put that coat back on and be Dr. Wilson again. If we cut straight to this, that wouldn't be happening. This is what you want, not what you need," House said sincerely.

"And what if I want you to not say any more in those ten minutes?"

"I'd say you were pushing it," House said, but he dutifully remained quiet for the next seven minutes. Wilson had earned his highest degree of caring years ago.

"It's about time for you to put on that suit of armor again," he said shifting to propel Wilson forward.

Wilson sighed heavily before standing and retrieving his white coat from where he had thrown it earlier. "So it goes," he said solemnly as he shook the coat out to free it of wrinkles and slipped it on.

"So it goes," House said as he rose from the couch watching as Wilson smoothed his hands over his coat.

"I'll see you at home," Wilson said as they exited the office together.


End file.
